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Not too much to stay, but sitting here listening to Bon Iver and updating my blog is preferable to going to bed alone, so…

Nuno’s out of town again and there’s some kind of switch that happens when he leaves that’s just… ugh. It’s the “solo” part of “solo parenting” that gets me and when there’s no one here but me and my own crapulence in the evening, that means there’s no one to whine to about how The Whuff was a one man attitude problem every moment that we were home. So, here I am, in the time honored tradition of the internet, whining at a text box about how I have no one to whine to. Good Gourd, how very meta. And whiny.

Moving on. Other than this momentary annoyance, all is well. We’re enjoying the spring that has finally, FINALLY arrived. For months, I’ve felt a bit like the Eddard Stark of Boston – muttering “SPRING IS COMING” with absolutely no evidence that such a thing would ever happen. And now, the trees are blooming, it’s gorgeous, and we’ve embarked on a playground tour of the South End to find which ones suit us best. (For any Bostonians wondering – thus far, Titus Sparrow Park is winning. Ringgold Park is also a contender.)

[ Note: This would be the reason all my current photos are once again Instagrams. I have a great configuration for my DSLR when I’m out with the stroller, but once I have to take my bag off and carry it… man that sucker gets heavy FAST. I need a sherpa. ]

This exodus to the Great Outdoors is also a way for us to transition out of our old routines. It’s become clear over the past few weeks, especially as P’s been able to communicate more clearly, that he has outgrown his old playgroup. There are more new kids and they’re much, much younger – the kiddos who were closer to his age seem to have moved on already. He gets frustrated very quickly and is very insistent on wanting to leave – walking to the door and saying “Bye! Bye! Bye!” after we’ve been there all of five minutes. I used to be able to push him to get used to it a bit and calm down, but that hasn’t worked for a few weeks and I really need to respect what he’s saying at this point if I want to encourage him to communicate more. Especially since some times we’re in situations when we *can’t* leave – the times when we can… there’s no reason to force it. We’re making up for it with playdates and hitting the parks and looking for new groups.

It’s just one transition after another. It feels like yesterday we moved and found this group and now… we’re moving to the next thing. And then the next and the next and the next and the next. I feel like I should have somehow planned better and had the next thing lined up, but I’m just winging it. I feel the nagging urgency that we need to get preschool organized, but that’s not coming up until next winter at the *earliest* and there’s an equal tug of “Don’t rush it. Don’t panic.” that keeps me from making the calls.

Tomorrow, we’ll hit the park and we’ll play with our friends and I’ll make some calls because the next thing is coming and then before we know it… WINTER IS COMING. Now is the time to enjoy the spring and the tulips and the cherry blossoms and to go the hell to bed before we have to get up and do the snacks and the bubbles and the slides and the tantrums all over again.

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